The Northern Lights
by Laurel
Summary: The story of the Genbu no Miko and her seishi.
1. Girl of the Snows


    _kokoro no hotori de_ Close to my heart,
    _anata ga yasashiku ORE wo yonde mo_ you call gently to me, but
    _mimi wo fusaide_  I close my ears.
    _hashiru hi mo aru_ There is also a day I run to,
    _koori no NAIFU wo daite_ Embracing the ice knife
    _dakedo itsu no hi ka heiwa ga_ But someday,
    _kono yo wo atatameta nara_ this peace will warm the world.
    _itetsuku_ SOURU _mo_  My frozen soul
    _tokedasu hazu sa_  will probably melt too,
    PURIZUMU _wo hanachi nagara_ setting a prism free.
    **- "Embracing The Ice Knife" (Yuu Yuu Hakusho)**
    

Chapter 1 - Girl of the Snows

  


Tomite

I had almost reached my destination, when my horse stumbled, very nearly pitching me into a nearby snowdrift. I would have gone right on ahead, giving the incident no further thought, but, in that moment, as I clung to the reins in a pitch of adrenaline, something had managed to catch my eye. A girl was lying almost completely buried in the snow, hidden so well that I would not have seen her, had it not been for her dark hair - a rebellious splash of jet black against the uniform white background.

I rushed to her side, sweeping away the snow from her face and limbs as fast as I could. She was small, only about half my stature, and was, from the looks of it, no more than sixteen years old. Her long hair was limp and tangled, and her cheeks streaked with dried tears. Hesitantly I checked her for signs of life, fighting not to let my hopes get too high. It was not an uncommon thing for people like her to be caught in a blizzard, or just plain collapse from exhaustion and hypothermia. Usually, the ordeal would not be one that they'd live to tell about.

This one, however, was a survivor. I could not tell if she was breathing or not, but her heart still beat, and the fingers on her left hand would twitch from time to time, clutching fitfully at an oversized brown shoulder pack. It was this pack that had nearly tripped my horse, putting my life in jeopardy, and, more likely than not, saving hers.

Now that I had determined that she was still alive, I had to decide what to do with her, and fast. I could hardly leave her there, that much was obvious, but what was I to do with her upon reaching town. It was not as though I had the time or resources to take her under my wing. With luck, her family lived nearby, or I could find someone who would be more capable of helping her then myself. Rummaging through my own bag, I dug out a horse blanket. It was old and smelled like the stables, but it would serve its immediate purpose of shielding her from the cold.

As I went to remove the girl's coat, which would have been soaked by now, but she didn't seem to be wearing one. What kind of idiot would go out in the middle of nowhere, in weather like this, without proper clothing? Judging by her dress - a strange garment, knee-length and made out of stiff, navy blue cloth - her family, while somewhat odd, was likely not poor. They should have seen to it, at least, that she was properly garbed!

Riding with her prone body in my arms was more than a little awkward. The horse was unused to the extra bulk, and insisted on making its displeasure known. Every time we came to a bump, the girl's form would be jolted into an even more unwieldy position, blocking my view and impeding my movements. Still, there was really no other way. I couldn't take the chance of her falling off, or being hurt.

She didn't seem to respond to the added heat that came from my body, or the blanket, even after a half-hour of riding. I took this as a bad sign. Maybe she was too far-gone, and would never revive. I found myself hoping that this was not the case, despite my better judgement telling me not to get my hopes up regarding her chances of survival, or get too attached. She was not the first person to be claimed by this godforsaken climate, and she would not be the last. This was not personal, I told myself, but, somehow, it became personal, anyway. I spurred the horse on, racing against time toward the now visible town lights.

***

The town was filled with travelers, all desperate to get out of the cold. Their colorful, noisy presence came as a welcome relief from the sheer whiteness of the plains. I arrived just as the markets were closing up, and the people beginning to settle in for the night, cheerfully filing into their respective houses and out of sight. The inns were filled to overflowing, much to the delight of their owners' pocketbooks. It would have been difficult, if not impossible to find a place to stay at this late hour, especially with a sick charge in hand. Luckily, since I was there on business, I had already arranged for room and board with one Seo Akuro, an older woman, whom I had never met before in my entire life. I had no idea how well she'd take to the idea of an additional tenant, who required immediate attention. If things went well, she'd be able to help me. Otherwise both the girl and I would be left high and dry.

I had been able to pry directions out of a hassled mother, who was busy trying to get her children to come inside for dinner. She had been, understandably, less than thrilled with annoying questions from strangers, but softened when she saw the urgency in my face. According to her, I was in the right part of town, and Seo-san lived only a few streets down.

The house in question looked stately, yet inviting. All of its windows were brightly lit, and it exuded a bright, alert atmosphere. Akuro herself answered my knocking. She was a delicate-looking matron, somewhere between thirty and fifty years old. Her curly black hair was greying, and her eyes had laugh-wrinkles around them. She seemed a little put off by my snow-covered, sopping wet form, and even more so wild explanations and requests, but she dealt with it like a pro.

Upon seeing the girl, she was all action. Quickly rattling off an address, she sent me to fetch the doctor, while busying herself with a search for warm, dry clothes and blankets. When I returned, befuddled doctor in tow, Akuro had made the girl as comfortable as humanly possible in her own room, so much that the petite form was nearly lost in a mass of blankets and pillows. Both she and the doctor immediately went to work, Akuro only pausing long enough to shoo me out of the room. I was somewhat irritated at this turn of events, but understood her logic - if I could not be of help, I'd only get in the way.

My horse was nicely situated in an adjacent barn. Apparently, Akuro had seen to it while I was gone. It was munching on some hay, and only looked my way long enough to give me the evil eye, obviously sulking at its supposed mistreatment at my hands. There was really nothing left for me to do there, but give its coat and hooves a perfunctory check (and nearly get kicked in the process). The day's fatigue was starting to catch up with me, so I decided to drag myself into my allotted bedroom.

After changing my own clothes, deciding that it wasn't worth the effort to unpack my belongings for the short span of time I was going to be there, and shoving my bags under the bed, instead, I had nothing left to do but pace. I felt awkward in the strange house, not sure as to where I was or wasn't allowed to go, but unable to stay in my room without dying of boredom and anxiety. At last, I settled on waiting outside the door to Akuro's room.

The doctor left a little after midnight, tired, but not unhappy. Akuro bid him a polite "Good night", before pulling me aside.

"What's going on?" she asked bluntly.

I told her my side of the story.

"So, you have no idea of who she is or what had happened to her?"

"Not really. I just kind of assumed that she was some random person who had been caught outside in bad weather." I couldn't help but wince at the skeptical look she gave me. Now that I had a chance to think about it, this explanation didn't really hold water. What would a traveler be doing out there on foot, with seemingly no preparation, little in the way of supplies, and no companionship? Even a foreigner should have known better. And, for that matter, while she didn't look like she was from around here, I had never seen clothing like hers on those from the surrounding countries, either. Just who was she, and what the hell was going on?

"There's something I'd like you to see", Akuro motioned for me to come in.

The girl was still unconscious, but looked somewhat better, her breathing loud and somewhat congested, but even. She had been dressed in an ill-fitting nightgown, and a cool cloth had been placed on her forehead. Akuro moved the mass of blankets aside, carefully propping the girl into a sitting position, and moving the nightgown to expose her shoulders and collarbone. The sight nearly made me recoil. The pale skin was covered with bruises, and a painful-looking cut ran all the way down the length of her left arm.

"The rest of her is like this, too." Akuro shook her head. "Who, or what could have done something like this?" She was struggling, and failing, to keep her composure, hands shaking in fury.

"Theoretically, it could have been just about anything. She could have been attacked by a wild animal or jumped by bandits, although the fact that she's still alive discounts that fact. She could have been pelted with hailstones. Hell, for all we know, she could have just been plain clumsy and prone to taking spills!" Being presented with yet another mystery after a hard trip and next to no sleep did nothing for my temperament or state of sanity.

Akuro bent down to retrieve the girl's pack, which had been lying discarded at the foot of the bed. Neither of us felt right, searching through this stranger's belonging, but any small thing could have provided a key to her identity and past. The search came up empty. The bag was filled with books, but most of them were written in a language neither of us was familiar with. The one legible book was written in what appeared to be a dialect of the language spoken here: about a half of it readable, and the rest, gibberish. Inside the cover of this book, what I took to be the girl's name was inscribed in neat, sharp handwriting.

"Okuda Takiko." The name sounded strange coming from my mouth. It was not a name that I heard before, but seemed steeped in a puzzling familiarity, nonetheless, without actually helping us one bit. Even now that we knew her name, this brought us no closer to a solution.

Both of us lapsed into silence having come to a dead end. After a few moments, Akuro marched out of the room. I followed her, like a little lost puppy.

That night, I could not sleep, despite being tired enough to drop. I lay on top of the covers, agitated and tense, until the barking of dogs and crowing of roosters signaled daybreak.

  
**TBC...**

Notes: I originally decided that I wanted to write this story a few months ago. Back then, it was nothing more than a haphazard idea that I wanted to do something with the Genbu seishi and miko. Since the canonical story told us next to nothing about them, I was left with a lot of room to maneuver in when creating the story. In fact, there were very few things I couldn't do with it. This makes the Genbu characters a godsend for fanfiction writers, yet there's not too much about them out there. By this point, I have narrowed down my options, deciding on a format, a basic plotline, and a starting characterization for the mystery seishi. I don't expect those plans to be all put in motion exactly as they are right now, in fact, I can pretty much guarantee that most of it will change, or, at least, morph, as I write.

By the way, if there are any other Genbu stories out there, I want to know! I'll probably have to wait on reading them, though, until my own story is done, so that I don't end up inadvertently plagiarizing them.


	2. Walls Made of Paper


    ima mo me no mae ni tsudzukuNow, before my eyes
    chizu ni nai michi wolies a path which isn't on the map.
    zutto aruite-yuku karaSo I walk it all the way
    sono saki no mirai no tameAnd for the sake of the future it takes me to,
    egaku Everlasting StoryI write an Everlasting Story
    **- "Everlasting Story" (Fushigi Yuugi)**
    

Chapter 2 - Walls Made of Paper

  


Takiko

The sunlight was glaring right in my eyes. I wished it would go away and let me go back to sleep. It was much too early to get up! Besides, this was a weekend. No school, right? _Right?_

Immediately, I was hit with shock and disorientation. Something was off. The room, my clothes, even the air felt all wrong. _Just keep your eyes closed. Go back to sleep, and everything will go back to normal,_ I tried to reassure myself. But it was too late. Between the light and the panic, I was now wide-awake. My eyes opened, almost on their own accord. Right away, I wished I were still asleep. 

I was lying on a bed much too large and soft to be my own, in a room I had never seen before in my life. The windows were open, and the breeze blew aside the drapes, letting in rays of sunshine and incomprehensible scraps of conversation. 

It felt like every limb, every muscle, every cell of my body was stiff and hurting with a dull, tired pain that would not go away. What'd I do to myself? I shook my head furiously, trying to clear the sleepy, forgetful fog on my mind, and remember what had taken place the previous day. Let's see - I had walked to school with Suzuno-chan, had classes, ate lunch; did normal, everyday things. 

I'd also received my scores on the last history exam. They were pretty good, although Suzuno had done better this time around. I wanted to brag about them to Papa, but he was busy. Busy today, busy always, so it seemed. I usually didn't mind so much - he really loved his job, I could tell. He'd often let me look at the old books he brought back with him. It was from him that I got my love of reading and literature. 

Still, I wished he would talk to me more often. Just talk. Not about anything particularly educated, or unique, just normal things. School, my friends, his own day. Maybe I would tell him about how Rei-chan had accidentally spilled her tea all over sensei's neat clothing, or about how the boys that were nothing but clowns last year had overnight become human and appealing. 

But he had other stuff to do. As per usual. So I stayed out of his way, for the most part. He had left some of his books lying around on a table in the library, with a note saying that I was free to browse through them, if I wanted. At first, none of them seemed particularly interesting. Then, a particular book caught my eye. I didn't know what was so special about it, but it just seemed to call out to me, begging to be picked up and explored. 

The book's cover was plain, browned and leathery to the touch, with the title printed dead center. It looked like it was written in Chinese, a language I wasn't particularly fluent in, but could decipher, to a degree. The title roughly translated to "The Four Gods' Sky And Earth". Good enough. It would provide me with something to do, as well as a chance to brush up my skills in a language I didn't normally get much practice in. 

I sat down at the table, and made an attempt to read, but every little noise and sight proved to be a distraction, rupturing my concentration. The room was frightfully hot, stuffy, and uncomfortable. At last, I gave up. Picking up my schoolbag, books and all, I left the house, only stopping briefly to tell Papa that I was going out. He didn't give me much of a response - just a nod and a muffled "All right". 

***

It didn't take me too long to reach the destination in mind. There was a corner of the local park where people didn't come too often, due to its unkempt, abandoned appearance, and out-of-the-way location. The plot of land was scruffy, overgrown, and absolutely beautiful. It had become my favored reading spot almost by accident when I was chased there by bullies two years ago, and had, since then become my personal refuge from daily life. 

I flopped down on the grass. Worrying about green, muddy stains on my skirt would come later: right now I was just glad for the fresh air and solitude. Finally, I could begin to read in earnest. 

The first few pages were blank. The text opened with an intriguing passage: 

"Herein is contained the story of a young woman, the Genbu no Miko who traveled to another world, and awakened a god. If you, the reader, choose to read the tale contained within, her story will become your own, and your deepest desires shall be granted." 

The situation grew more and more curious by the minute! This was exactly the type of story I would enjoy: one that would allow me to see the world through the characters' eyes. To laugh with them, cry with them, feel with them. To experience the depth of a life I would never be able to live. I often sought such escape from reality, and it was my books and characters, more than anything else, that shaped the kind of person that I was. Too bad I couldn't _actually_ be pulled into the storyline. I mean, one could always pretend, but I was more than old enough to know that such things didn't happen, and even if they did, they certainly wouldn't happen to _me_. 

I turned the page. 

The day was getting rather windy. The pages began to flutter in my hands with such a force, I was afraid they were going to be torn out. I felt my hair whipping around, torn free from the ties. I grasped my schoolbag, and stumbled to my feet, clutching the still-open book. Whatever was going on, it was time to go back home, and fast. But the _kami_ had other plans. The wind intensified to an unnatural point where I was unable to move against the almost solid column of air. It was then that I started screaming for help. Why didn't anyone notice or hear? Why did no one come to my aid? The jets of air were now so strong I could no longer keep my eyes open. I was pelted with loose branches and debris until the stinging pain was unbearable. I sank to the ground, trying, and failing, to shield my face, too terrified to even scream or pray. The book slipped from my fingers. 

And then, the world shifted under me, and I was falling... 

***

The first thing that came to my mind was that I could not feel the wind anymore. I was curled up into a little ball on the ground, with my bag jammed against my side at an awkward angle. It took my clogged ears a few moments to adjust and realize that there were people talking excitedly all around me. My eyes felt black & blue and swollen, but I forced them open anyway. An overexcited crowd of strangely dressed people surrounded me, every ounce of their attention focused on my form. Immediately, I lowered my eyes, feeling very small and shy. 

The people talked among themselves in furtive, hurried tones. They didn't address me personally, but their eyes never left me for a moment. Without warning, one of them placed a hand on my shoulder. I felt every one of my nerve endings fire off in alarm, but fought to keep myself from jumping. Instead, I turned to face the stranger. 

He was young, despite the odd, prematurely grey color of his hair. His face was solemn, his silver left eye focused steadily on me. As for his right eye, it was hidden beneath a leather patch. I felt uncomfortable looking at it, and even more uncomfortable with my discomfort. It was as though my hesitation would needlessly remind this almost perfect human being of his one handicap. And he was - almost perfect, I mean. Even the eye patch, and his road-weary clothing did nothing to hide the fact that he was extraordinarily handsome, in a mysterious sort of way. 

"Excuse me. Would you mind my asking you some questions?" His voice was even and neutral, betraying neither hostility nor affinity toward me. 

I nodded. "I'm Okuda Takiko." I stuck out my hand in greeting, suddenly feeling very young, immature, and stupid. 

I could detect an edge of a smile on his face as he briefly took my hand into his own. "Emtato Chen." 

He seemed nice. So why were my hands shaking, and the edges of my cheeks feeling unnaturally hot? Why did a niggling aspect of my subconscious whisper of a familiarity, even though I knew for a fact that I had never laid eyes on him before in my life? 

"This may sound presumptuous and harsh, but where, exactly, are you from, and how in the world did you get here?" 

Good questions, both of them. At least I could answer the first... "I'm from Tokyo. As for how I got here, well..." 

I cursed myself for opening my mouth. Was I supposed to say that I got sucked into this place through a dusty old book? _Sure, they'd believe me. And the sky might rain emeralds, while we're at it!_

I only had a moment to debate with myself before, once again, things spun out of control. 

Suddenly, it was like there were two of me. I was still sprawled in the middle of a town square, staring up at the face of the fascinating young man, but another part of me was now simultaneously aware of another locale altogether - the familiar grove of a park in Tokyo. Nothing had changed there. I would have though that the tempestuous gales that had swept me here would have ruined the place, pulling up trees and wreaking havoc among the people. Instead, all was quiet, with only a natural late afternoon breeze swishing through the tall grasses, and the opened pages of my book. 

_The book!_ I had dropped it when I was transported here (wherever 'here' was). Who knew what would happen to me without it? Now that I had seen it lying there, abandoned, I could not tear my attention away from it. 

As I looked, I felt a chill of _deja vu_ run through me, as the wind picked up. There was nothing supernatural about it this time, only a normal gust, appropriate to the time of year. 

It was enough. 

The book's pages trembled, then turned. 

I barely had enough time to let out a scream, before I was falling again. 

***

I was in a stuffy, official-looking room. There were a few people in it, but none of them seemed to be paying attention to me. There seemed to be a prevailing aura of doom and despair hanging about everyone. No one spoke, or even breathed too loudly. Every once in a while, someone would look my way, but their eyes would never meet mine. 

I felt like I should say something, but it felt inappropriate. I wondered why none of them commented on, or even noticed my sudden appearance. I drew in my breath, preparing to shatter the oppressive silence with a question... 

And again, the double vision came. The wind blew. The leaves stirred. 

And the pages turned. 

***

There was no silence this time, but rather an earth shattering cacophony of clanging metal, whinnying horses, and human screams. I ran, but there was nowhere to run. The field of blood and agony looked like it stretched on forever. Like there was no peaceful land left anywhere in the world, whether or not that was the case. 

My foot caught on something, and I went down, my arms and legs scraping on the dry, rocky soil. I was now at face level with the thing that had tripped me. It was a sword, dropped in the heat of battle. At any other time, seeing the blood stained weapon would have made me sick to my stomach, but in the light of the carnage going on around me, it seemed trivial. 

I struggled back to my feet. One way or the other, I had to get away from this hell on earth. 

I didn't see the sword coming at me, but I certainly felt it, when it sliced into my arm. I had never experienced such pain before. It was only luck that the blow had not killed me. I could feel the blood welling up, and then spilling over from the cut. 

I fell back down, and hugged the dirt, paralyzed in fear. For the first time, I found myself praying that the pages would turn again. _Take me somewhere else, onegai! Anything else had to be better than this!_

And the pages turned. 

***

A forest. Dawn was breaking. The people around the campfire stirred... 

And the pages turned. 

A comfortable, airy bedroom, with fancy furniture in it. Some woman, a maid, perhaps, moved about cleaning... 

And the pages turned. 

Darkness. Then light. Someone calling my name... 

And the pages turned. 

Fields, buried in blinding white. I scooped up some of the snow, and rubbed it against my bleeding arm, more a ritualistic attempt to clean away the blood than an actual medical aid. I had to go on. I had to make it. Despite the pain. Despite the leaden way my body felt. Cold. Too cold. I didn't care. Sleep. Rest. Make the pain and exhaustion go away. Don't feel anymore. Don't see anymore. Just sleep... 

And one last page turned. And the book slammed shut. 

**TBC...**

Info Notes: Hikitsu's real name came from the character info on "Fushigi Yuugi: The Fire Of Suzaku's Wings" (http://www.onewingedangel.com/~suzaku/). And yes, if the description didn't tip you off, the man Takiko spoke to in the third part of this was, indeed, Hikitsu. 

Author's Notes: This chapter was much harder to write than the first one, due to the fact that it had to cover a much more varied ground of events. The pacing gave me some trouble, since, in the beginning, there's really nothing happening but setup and exposition, and then, things just spiral out of control, and start going at breakneck speed. I hope I more or less succeeded at giving this chapter the proper mileage. Another Thing: I'm not terribly familiar with Japanese culture in the 1920s, so if anything I mentioned doesn't jive with reality, just mention it, and I'll make corrections. 


End file.
